


Any Last Words? (aka The 5 Stages of Grief)

by thMaddHatter



Series: The Magic is in the Words [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Claudia Stilinski Feels, Death As A Theme, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Dying Stiles, F/M, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, McCall Family Feels, Minor Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, Minor Violence, Original Character(s), Original Mythology, Sad, Slow Build, Stiles-centric, Stilinski Family Feels, The Nemeton - Freeform, Vampires, Witch Stiles Stilinski, Witches, basically it's just really sad, lots of sterek bonding, no like really sad, peter mentioned, poorly translated latin, pop culture references, sort of, vaguely dub con moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:21:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thMaddHatter/pseuds/thMaddHatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death is a hard thing to deal with, no matter how you look at it.</p><p>If you asked Derek, he would tell you that it would be better to know about it ahead of time. Having everything be perfectly fine, then suddenly being ripped out from under your feet is devastating. It’s like your heart being cleaved in two with no warning or precursor. One minute you’re whole and the next, you’re not. It can take years to even begin to process. It’s the worst kind of pain.</p><p>If you asked Stiles, knowing about it in advance is the absolute worst. Every moment becomes worthless and empty when you’re just counting down the days until the last minute. Until everything is over. It warps time, making some days drag out like weeks and others pass by like hours. It’s almost impossible to think of anything else. The oncoming tragedy becomes the focal point of your life, and that is tragic in and of itself.</p><p>But no one ever asked Stiles.</p><p>Part 3 of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/96368">The Magic Is In The Words</a> series. Absolutely must read <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1525346/chapters/3226100">1</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2349830/chapters/5183342"> 2</a> first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.1-Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's not dead!!
> 
> I know! I'm sorry! I'm trash! Please forgive!
> 
> I know I promised this in March and it is very much not March. But a whole lot of writer's block happened, then a whole lot of life happened, then a whole lot more writer's block happened and before I knew it most of the year was over.
> 
> I had a really hard time writing this because it was so emotional and upsetting for me that I couldn't sit down and write it for extended periods of time without wanting to breakdown and cry. So I had to take a lot of breaks and some time to distance myself from it. Then I really kind of fell out of love with the series and couldn't find the motivation to spend much time trying to write it. Combine that with how hard it was in the first place and that had me leaving it alone for months at a time.
> 
> But I'm here now!
> 
> Lots of changes from my usual stuff. For starters, there won't be anymore updating multiple times in a day like with the previous ones. I can maybe make it twice a week.
> 
> Also with the way I structured this one, the chapter lengths are extremely varied. Some are really short, some are super long. That's just the way the story flows. No more 6 page each chapter goals (which I never really followed anyways).
> 
> Pay attention to where I've put the countdown of days, because it does go back and forth between chapters. You will find yourself very confused if you approach it thinking that the story is moving linearly.
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this and that it makes you cry at least half as much as I did. Then I'll know I did well.
> 
> As always, I don't own the Teen Wolf characters, but do own the OCs and all mythology surrounding witches.
> 
> Comments are loved. Con/Crit is welcome if you're not rude.
> 
> I think that's it. (So sorry again for making you wait so long!) Enjoy!

(15 Days)

At first, the pack was silently hovering in the hours after the fire. Stiles had taken comfort in it for a while, but he quickly grew tired of it. Everyone was tiptoeing around the events of the day, unaware of how to broach the subject, so they avoided it all together and pretended like everything was fine. They gathered at the Stilinski house as if it was an ordinary evening on the heel of any other triumph over the latest baddie.

With the exception that everyone was so singularly focused on Stiles that nothing else really seemed to matter, and it was making him slightly claustrophobic.

No one mentioned the fact that Derek was the alpha again. Stiles didn’t think he’d even told anyone about him having accomplished the full shift.

The pack hovered in the hallway while Stiles washed all the dirt and soot off himself, quietly chatting amongst themselves about inconsequential things.  Lydia’s sudden spike in Instagram followers. The annoyance of Aniyah moving and preparing to switch schools. The new lacrosse plays coach had been trying to teach the team. Malia’s progress on learning how to people. Anything but the boy on the other side of the door.

It had taken hours for Danny to seek medical attention for his hands despite that they were turning colors and looked more like ground meat than actual appendages. When he finally did do something about them, his definition of medical attention was sitting in the living room while Melissa plucked tiny shards of glass from his cuts with a pair of tweezers before her shift started.

Aniyah had reassured him that she could create a potion that would heal his hands almost instantly. She had seen it in one of her books and knew it was easy with simple ingredients, so it could be ready by the next morning. She also recalled a recipe for an ointment that could heal any blemishes. That one would take a little more time, but his hands would be back to normal soon.

Lydia, Scott, Isaac, and Derek all spent the night. One by one, throughout the rest of the evening, the others had been called home by their parents. Lydia had been too, but she told her mother no. Knowing the futility of it, Natalie didn’t bother trying to argue.

John didn’t understand why everyone had been clinging so closely to his son, or why he had 4 people camping out on the floor of his room. No one had the heart to tell him what was going on just yet, and Stiles hadn’t found himself upset by that fact.

(14 days)

When Lydia woke up for school Wednesday morning, Stiles wasn’t in his bed anymore. Derek hadn’t been curled up in his corner on the floor either. She used her “Walk-a-Shame Proof” bag that she kept stashed in her car to get ready, and was fabulous and flawless in record time while Isaac and Scott were just starting to rouse. When she made it to the kitchen, Stiles was serving up a big breakfast of eggs, sausage, waffles, and fresh fruit. He’d even set out whipped cream and flavored syrups for the waffles.

He was chatting happily with his dad and a tired, but cheerful Melissa, still in her scrubs. Derek was there too, but he wasn’t in the conversation. Instead, he was leaning against the counter by the fridge, watching Stiles flit around the kitchen and dining room. Every now and then, Stiles would make a silly face at him for all the staring. Lydia didn’t know how he was able to be goofy and smile so openly, knowing what he did.

“Yoooo!” he called when he noticed her hovering in the hallway. “Come get some food!”

Eyeing him warily, she came into the kitchen and sat at the table. Stiles immediately sat a plate in front of her and dished out a scoop of strawberries and a waffle. He nudged the syrups and whipped cream in her direction before skipping back over to the stove. Lydia threw a curious look in Derek’s direction, but Derek just shrugged. He didn’t understand any better than she did.

While Stiles tended to his latest batch of waffles, he kept darting looks at Derek and gnawing on his lip pensively. He caught Derek’s eye a few times, but neither of them said anything, so they continued as if it never happened. He finally noticed Derek’s eyes flit up to the roof. That was the cue he was looking for, meaning Isaac and Scott were on their way downstairs.

He quickly piled a pair of plates high with waffles, sausage, and eggs. He set them at the last 2 empty spots at the table. He covered one in blueberry syrup, sprinkled it with strawberries, and then covered the whole thing in a whipped cream spiral. When he saw Scott entering the kitchen, he directed him to the chair with the blueberries, cutting a piece with his fork for him.

Scott had a forlorn expression on his face and when he opened his mouth to say something to Stiles, Stiles shoved the forkful of waffles into it, cutting off any words. Scott whimpered around the fork, but understood what Stiles wanted. He took it from him and continued to eat, staring sadly into his plate.

Stiles turned to Isaac with a dirty look. He lifted another fork, prepared to give Isaac the same treatment. Isaac just rolled his eyes and snatched it out of his hand. “Fuck off,” he shooed him away. Scott glared up at Isaac viciously, while both Melissa and John scolded him for cussing. Stiles laughed loudly and gave him a huge grin, playfully shoving his shoulder.

He traipsed around the table, grabbing another plate and filling it with eggs and fruit. He cut a waffle in half and added that and a couple of sausages. He drizzled the waffle in maple syrup and handed the plate to Derek.

At first he shook his head, refusing, but Stiles pushed it closer to him. “Stiles-” Derek warned in protest, but the teen cut him off.

“I will feed you too,” Stiles threatened. Derek glared at him, daring him to try. Not one to turn down a challenge, Stiles speared a piece of waffle, holding it up for Derek to bite. He only received a blank stare and judgmental eyebrows as response. “Come on,” Stiles cooed, waving the fork around. “Open up the tunnel for the choo-choo train!” He made it wind through the air a bit before pushing it against Derek’s closed mouth. “Choo choo!” He pressed it repeatedly into his cheek, urging him to take it. “Say ahhhhhh!” Stiles opened his mouth to demonstrate.

Derek pulled his lips apart just enough to give Stiles a low grade warning snarl, but that was all the witch needed. He crammed the fork in there, smiling happily. “Om nom nom-nom,” he mimicked a chewing noise as he pulled the fork out and cut him another piece. “Who’s ready for more?”

Derek rolled his eyes so hard his whole face twitched, and Melissa laughed at him from across the room. He opened his mouth to take the food anyways and Stiles cheered triumphantly, ignoring his father openly gawking at the pair of them.

Derek let Stiles feed him 3 more bites before taking the plate away from him. "Don't you have to go to school?" he asked.

"But feeding you is so much more fun," Stiles teased. "Do you think it's delicious? Or are you going to bite my hand off? It's such a gamble. It's exciting."

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to bite your hand off,” Derek threatened. Scott whined noisily from across the kitchen at the comment. Stiles forfeited Derek’s fork so he could glide across the room and scrape more sausages onto Scott’s plate. John observed all the strange behavior taking place in his kitchen curiously and filed it away for later. At the moment, he had something else at the forefront of his mind.

"So," he asked, pushing his empty plate away. "What did you guys get up to yesterday, anyways?"

"What do you mean?" Stiles feigned obliviousness.

"You know," John crossed his arms, not falling for it. "When you came home bruised to all hell and covered in soot. You _and_ Derek," he pointed to the elder werewolf. "Then I got a call from deputy Adamski that the remains of the _Hale House_ burned to the ground last night. You know, _that_..."

Stiles shrugged. "It sounds to me like you know exactly what happened last night," he insisted.

"Okay, but what did you _do_?"

"There was a threat," Derek cut in. "We neutralized it. The house was collateral damage."

“So am I going to have to arrest anyone for arson?” John asked.

“They can’t call it arson if they can’t determine the cause of the fire,” Stiles answered. “So, no.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is in no way comforting.”

“I’ve learned that sometimes it’s just better not to know,” Melissa chimed in. The Sheriff nodded in agreement and let the subject drop with a heavy sigh.

Breakfast continued in the same manner, Stiles flitting around merrily as he fed everyone and joked with and teased his father. Scott stayed silent and downtrodden through the entirety of their meal, insisting he was okay despite Melissa’s prodding. Lydia maintained her wariness of Stiles’ behavior, but loosened up enough to cut into the conversation with her typical sass and biting sarcasm every now and then. Isaac was mostly silent as per typical lately, but laughed occasionally at Lydia and the Stilinskis’ antics.

Despite the elephant in the room, the atmosphere stayed light and warm until it was time for the teens to start filing out for school.

“Wait,” Derek called out as Stiles gathered the bag he’d prepared earlier and went searching for his keys. Stiles had been busy and on his feet all morning. To the point that no one but Derek had noticed that he hadn’t actually gotten anything to eat. He plopped a few sausages and a waffle onto a plate, drowning it in maple syrup and offered it to Stiles.

Stiles winced at it as if the thought of eating physically pained him, but Derek merely waved the plate around, urging him to eat it. Smirking as an idea popped into his head, Stiles walked right up to Derek. “Only if you feed it to me,” he teased, knowing Derek would never go for it.

Already having seen the gears turning in the boy’s head, Derek cut him a slice of waffle and speared it with the fork, scowling the whole time. Stiles laughed at his expression, but opened his mouth obediently, closing his eyes and waiting for it to be filled. His cheeks were a little flush and his lips were red and swollen from having been chewed on all morning. He had his head tilted slightly back with his neck exposed, Adam’s apple minutely bobbing as he swallowed impatiently, pink tongue making an appearance near his teeth.

Derek sighed quietly to himself. Either Stiles was an asshole or he had no idea what he looked like right now.  Stiles closed his mouth to wet his lips with his tongue, then opened it again, even wider than before. Actually, Derek was certain that he’s just an asshole.

He brought the dripping piece of waffle to his face, barely grazing it on his bottom lip. Just enough to build Stiles’ anticipation for the incoming bite. Right as he seemed prepared to wrap his lips around the fork, Derek tugged it away and wiped it over his cheek, across his nose and onto the other one, leaving a sticky trail in its wake.

Stiles squealed indignantly. “Hey!” he shouted, biting down a laugh as he waved the fork away. Served him right. He opened his mouth to say something, probably to berate the wolf, but as soon as he did, Derek gave him the same treatment he’d received himself and just jammed the fork in there. Stiles laughed again as Derek quickly withdrew the fork and cut another piece of the waffle. “You suck!” Stiles complained, but Derek simply added more. Stiles kept trying to talk with his mouth full, but Derek kept cutting him off by shoveling more food into it.

Eventually, nearly the whole plate had been stuffed into his cheeks, so Derek called it good enough and allowed him to clean his face and head to school (but not until after he watched him swallow it— _shut up_ Stiles).

Stiles left the house in the same slaphappy, giddy mood and stayed that way for the rest of the day. Even after the pack met together at school and everyone asked how he was doing, he merely gave them a big smile and told them he was perfectly fine, instantly changing the subject anytime anyone tried to suggest otherwise.

He refused to mention the state of his health and he refused to talk about Griffin. The scowl and sudden wave of sorrow and contrition he felt the first time he saw Griffin again was enough to notify him that the wolf had indeed known what his fate was. He didn’t want to talk about either of those things, so he made a show of pretending he wasn’t there.

Stiles spent the next few days being happier than he’d been since the nogitsune, even after he’d met Griffin and they were still good together. He was carrying on as if nothing had happened on Tuesday. As if his life didn’t suddenly have a timer ticking away above his head.

It was Saturday before anyone had the heart to approach him about it.

(11 days)

“Have you told your Dad yet?” Scott queried.

Stiles rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall of his brother’s room with a thunk. This already? He hadn’t even been there a full ten minutes. “He doesn’t need to know.”

“Wh-what?” Scott sputtered. “How-what do you mean ‘he doesn’t need to know’?”

“Exactly what I said,” Stiles huffed. “It’s pretty self-explanatory.”

Scott gaped at him for a moment in utter disbelief. “Stiles!” he scolded, raising his voice a little. “You’re his only child-”

“I know that!” Stiles retorted, but Scott kept talking over him.

“You’re the last person he has, and you’re _dying_! How are you going to just _not_ tell him?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Scott!” the witch argued. “Why would I just tell him something like that?”

“Because he needs to know!” Scott couldn’t understand how this made any sense in his friends head. The boy was delusional.

Stiles crossed his arms defensively and hissed a low sigh. “You said it yourself,” he explained. “I’m all he’s got. How do you think it’s going to make him feel when I tell him that he’s losing me too?”

“Stiles!” Scott’s voice was barely below a shout. “I don’t think you understand. You’re _dying_.” He said it slowly as if talking to a small child. “In less than two weeks’ time, you’re no longer going to be alive. How do you think your Dad’s going to feel when that happens and nobody warned him about it? How’s he going to feel when he realizes he had eleven days to emotionally prepare himself for your loss but you wouldn’t even tell him?”

“There’s no such thing as emotionally preparing yourself, Scott. You don’t know what it’s like-”

“No, I don’t.”

Stiles dropped his head for a second as he mentally steeled himself for what he was about to say. “When my Dad found out that my Mom was sick beyond the point of getting better, he walked around like a zombie with this dead look in his eye for _months_. It literally broke him. It broke _me_. Every day my mom would get sicker, and every day a tiny piece of my soul got sucked away until she was nothing and neither was I.”

Scott winced at that statement. He remembered the last few weeks before Claudia’s death. For a while Stiles was angry and uncontrollable. Then he withdrew into himself and eventually stopped speaking, meandering around in a listless lethargy. Toward the end, he planted himself in Claudia’s hospital room and refused to leave no matter who begged, becoming violent when anyone tried to move him forcibly. It was a horrible time for the Stilinskis, and Scott had been terrified that he would lose his best friend.

Stiles shook his head as if to dispel the same memory. “How can you ask me to subject my father to that?” he asked, shifting his feet. “ _Again_?”

Scott pulled a hand through his hair, no more prepared to handle losing his friend than he was at age 9. “Stiles, you have to tell him,” he explained quietly. “He deserves to know, and…” He didn’t want to admit the last bit, but he had to. “He’s going to lose you anyways. _We all are_. It’s not fair that he’s the only one that doesn’t know ahead of time.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and looked at the empty chair in the corner instead of at Scott. “Fine,” he caved, tapping his index finger against his thumb anxiously. “I’ll tell him, but not today. Or tomorrow.” Scott gave him a reprieving look. “I’ll tell him when he _needs_ to know and not a moment sooner. Right now, I’m just fine, so he doesn’t need to know anything.” He said it with finality and an ironclad resolve in his stare, so Scott let him have this. Besides, it wasn’t really his place to tell anyone for him.

The moment didn’t last long before Scott gave a small gasp and his eyes darted to his bedroom door. Stiles followed his gaze and they watched as it swung open slowly. Melissa was standing on the other side. Her mouth was set in a thin line and she looked like she was holding back tears. Her eyes stayed trained on Scott for a long, tense minute before she allowed them to drift over to where Stiles was still leaning against the wall and watching her precariously.

“Stiles…” Melissa trailed off, stepping toward him, tears pooling in her eyes as she failed to keep them back. “Is this true?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and glared at Scott. “Thanks a lot. You and your _big mouth_ ,” he accused.

“Sorry!” Scott apologized frantically. “I had no idea she was right there!” He wasn’t lying. He was too caught up in his fight with Stiles for his ears to pick up the sounds of her coming up the stairs, or to hear her ragged breathing as she eavesdropped in horror on the other side of the door.

“Stiles,” Melissa got ahold of herself a bit better. She swiped her cheeks dry and faced him with an aloof professionalism that she’d spent years perfecting at the hospital. “Tell me what happened.” At first, Stiles made no attempts at explaining, but she threw him that mom look and he caved.

“Nothing really,” he tried to brush it off. “I got bit… by an alpha…”

“ _Griffin_?” Melissa’s façade dropped for a moment as she gasped in outrage. She knew he should have known better. “I’ll string him up by his werewolf balls and-”

“No! No!” Stiles cut her off, suppressing a smirk. “I mean, if you really want to do that, I’m not going to stop you, but no. He’s not the one who bit me.”

Melissa schooled her features together again. “Then who?”

“Peter.” She continued looking at him, waiting for him to explain, but for once in his life his lips were sealed shut and he had no intention of opening them. Instead, she rounded on Scott, who was more than happy to divulge the details.

“How did Peter become an alpha?” she asked.

Scott sighed, remembering what Derek told him. “Remember when that witch was trying to destroy the town?” Melissa nodded. “On Christmas, she summoned a monster alpha to try and kill us-”

“I remember that.” Melissa had heard all about that night from the sheriff, then eventually Scott after practically wringing it out of him. Neither of them had been particularly forthcoming on the details, but she was able to determine that there was a bad fight, they lost, and had been very hurt in the process.

“Well,” Scott continued. “Long story short-Peter killed it. Fast forward to last Tuesday, and he kidnapped Stiles, then bit him.”

“Is that where he was when you couldn’t find him?” She glanced at Stiles curiously, but turned her head back in time to see her son nod. “I don’t understand-I mean I get that Peter’s a psycho. But I thought he was on our side. After he helped with the alpha pack and the nogitsune… What does he have against Stiles that he’d want to kill him?”

Stiles huffed loudly for what seemed like the millionth time that morning. “He wanted me to join his pack. I said no. He thought he’d make me… Didn’t work out so well.”

Melissa shook her head, trying to focus on the practicalities of it all. “So how does it work?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked irritably. He really hadn’t wanted Melissa to know yet. He certainly didn’t want to talk with her about it.

“How long do you have? What can we do to help?”

“I should have until the full moon. I’m supposed to just keep getting weaker and weaker until then. As far as helping…” he shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “I don’t need anything. I feel just fine. I just need everyone to stop acting so weird.”

Melissa didn’t fail to notice that Stiles was using auxiliary verbs as opposed to making an outright statement. She kept the realization to herself.


	2. 1.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation happens at Aunt Dee's house.
> 
> Short chapter.

(14 days)

Derek waited until school had started before heading to Aunt Dee’s house. He knew that if he went there while Griffin was still home that he would start a fight. The last thing he needed was to get into a row with the other alpha, so he just avoided seeing him altogether.

He sat outside the house for a while, not brave enough to go in. He knew what he wanted, but was too afraid to hear what Aunt Dee had to say about it. Or maybe he was more afraid that she was going to say exactly what he thought she would.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously for a few more minutes before he heard another car pulling up the driveway. It was much too quiet to be Griffin’s Beast Monster, so he wondered if it was Aunt Dee’s assistant. Laura or whatever her name was. He watched the little Jetta pull in behind him through the rearview mirror and noticed that it was Aniyah.

They got out at the same time and he nodded at her in greeting as they approached the door. Aniyah pushed the bell, glancing nervously up at Derek. Despite him having saved her life the day before, she had barely even held a conversation with him.

He was tall and imposing, giving off a dark and broody aura. The scowl on his face implied that he was annoyed, but she could feel differently. He was endlessly sad and desperately hopeful, but not optimistic. She sighed heavily.

“Guess that means you’re here for the same reason that I am,” she queried.

“What?” Derek didn’t know what she meant, having made the statement unprompted.

“You’re looking for a cure too,” she explained.

Derek said nothing as he heard the lock unbolt and the door fell open. He hadn’t heard footsteps or a heartbeat on that level of the house, so he assumed Aunt Dee did it with her magic. He let Aniyah in first and followed her down to the basement. He grabbed her by the upper arm when one of her feet slipped past the step and she nearly fell. There he went, saving her again.

Aunt Dee clapped twice to light the candles about the room so her visitors could see. She hummed somberly, “Well, here is a pair I never imagined I would have coming down my staircase.”

“Aunt Dee,” Aniyah started, cutting to the chase. “Stiles-” but Aunt Dee cut her off.

“I already know why you are here,” she explained. “I could sense it the moment Stiles got bit.” She sighed heavily before continuing. “And I’m certain you both know what I’m going to say to you. There is nothing we can do. If there was, I would have done it already.”

“There has to be something,” Derek grunted out. “A legend, an old story, even just whisperings. There’s got to be something we can work with.”

“The only legends are the ones that reiterate the futility of trying to save him, my dear.” She tried to force a sympathetic smile toward them, but it fell flat into a frown.

“What about vampire venom?” Aniyah asked, insistent. She could feel the desperation and sadness flowing out of Derek and it was making her frantic. She tried to force it down so she could get her words out levelly. “You said a werewolf bite, the spark of a witch, and a vampire bite all balanced each other out.” Aunt Dee’s eyebrows knit together in a disappointed grimace, but Aniyah plowed on. “He’s already got the two, the vampire venom is the last ingredient. Wouldn’t that cancel them all out?”

Derek had never heard that before and he found himself cautiously hopeful despite the discouraging look on Aunt Dee’s face.

“You have to know it would never be that simple.” She shook her head, slightly exasperated but trying to be patient with them. This couldn’t be any easier for them than it was for her. In fact it was likely hundreds of times worse. Especially for Derek. “Witches werewolves and vampires have existed together on this earth for millennia and in that time, not a single witch has been able to come up with a functioning cure.”

“Okay, but the vampire venom is a good place to start?” Aniyah pushed hopefully. “That’s got to be the key to it. It makes perfect sense-”

“ _Millennia_ , dear,” Aunt Dee repeated, interrupting what she knew would be frantic rambling. “If this is a problem witches have been failing to solve for that long, what makes you think you can solve it in two weeks?”

Aniyah huffed defiantly and opened her mouth to argue, but she had no response. She was a new witch who’d barely gotten ahold of her telekinesis. What could she do? But she couldn’t just give up. She had to try something.

“Besides,” the elder witch continued, “It’s already been determined that the addition of a vampire’s venom would merely increase the rate at which he dies.”

Aniyah found that to be shocking. “But why?” she argued. “That doesn’t make sense. It only makes sense for them to cancel each other out. You said it yourself that they are all equal. If none of them is stronger than the other than the only logical reaction-”

“You’re applying science to magic, dear. It just doesn’t work that way.” Aunt Dee shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know why that doesn’t work. It’s not something I’ve ever bothered to look into. It’s just something I’ve learned, and something I’ve witnessed firsthand. There’s never been a reason to go looking into the magic behind it.”

Aniyah scoffed loudly, growing more frustrated by the moment.

“You are right,” Aunt Dee added after a few charged seconds of silence. “Logically, all three elements should solve our problem. But by that same logic, you shouldn’t be able to levitate refrigerators with your mind. It just doesn’t work that way.”

“There has to be something,” Derek added stubbornly. He’d been listening to the witches argue with a silent resolve. Derek would do everything in his power to save Stiles, no matter what history and stupid facts suggest he can’t. There was no way he could just stop trying. “Who knows, maybe we’ll come up with something that no one’s ever thought to try before.”

“Derek…” Aunt Dee sighed and crossed her arms.

“I’m not going to give up on him.” Derek sent her a fierce glare that he knew she could feel even without her eyesight. “I’m not just going to sit back and watch him die.”

“Neither am I,” Aniyah agreed.

Absolutely nothing would deter them and Aunt Dee could see it in their auras. People processed grief differently, and it could be hard or sometimes futile to argue with someone locked so deeply in denial. They could only figure it out for themselves.

She shrugged her shoulders to her ears before dropping her arms, relenting. She reached an arm out over the desk, palm up and fingers splayed. One at a time, she brought each finger toward her palm before releasing it. When her hand was flat again, 5 books around the room began to glow a bright green before flying off of their shelves and settling in a neat stack on the table.

“These are all the books I’ve got that talk extensively about the balance between the three species and how they relate to each other.” She gestured to them, sweeping her arm toward Derek and Aniyah. “Feel free to borrow them, but I’m warning you-” she shook her head sadly. “You aren’t going to find anything.”

Aniyah shuffled to the table and picked up all of the books, juggling them in her arms with a determined look in her eyes. “Thank you,” she sighed before turning to head up the stairs.

Derek lingered a moment longer, looking pensive. After a moment, he asked, “Do you have any books that talk about the relation between wolfsbane, vervain, and… those red jewels that Stiles wears?”

“Red beryls?” Aunt Dee clarified, not sure how he thought any of that would relate. When he nodded she reached her arm over the table again, repeating the gesture she’d done earlier. Only this time she only flicked one finger.

A single book flew off the shelf and landed quietly on the table. Derek reached for it, thanking her before turning to head up the stairs after Aniyah. Just as he reached the top of the staircase, he heard Aunt Dee say something. It was quiet, barely above a whisper, but it was definitely meant for Derek to hear.

“I’m so sorry.”

He paused for a minute, processing the words and what the witch meant by them before pushing through the closet and leaving the house. He spotted Aniyah closing the passenger door to her car after having loaded the books into the seat.

“Are you going to school today?” he asked her.

“Hell no,” she answered flatly. “I’m going to scour these books until I find something helpful.”

Expecting a similar answer, Derek nodded at her. “Follow me,” he ordered before climbing into his Toyota.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are paying attention to the countdown of days.


	3. 2.1-Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is still dying, and everything is irritating.
> 
> Buckle up and get comfy y'all. This one's a doozy.

(9 days)

The pack had been walking on egg shells around Stiles all week and it was kind of starting to piss him off. They were always talking quietly amongst themselves and when he approached them, they would fall silent. They kept asking him how he was doing, and trying to do things for him.

At first he thought it was fucking great that Scott wanted to carry his books to his locker and that Kira kept giving him food. When Danny said he would do his homework for him, it was starting to get a little bit annoying. Now, Lydia was even offering to go get his lunch for him and that was just too damn much.

He forced a heavy breath through his nose in frustration and stood straight up out of the cafeteria chair. The quiet screech it made was similar to what he imagined the sound of his patience snapping would be.

“Will everyone stop treating me like a fucking cancer patient?” he growled. “I feel _FINE_!”

The pack looked up at him in shock and Lydia slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Stiles,” Kira started, gesturing to her own face, “your nose.”

He reached a hand up to touch his nose and came away with a thick trail of black ichor connecting to his fingers. He slammed his hands back over his face and span around, rushing to the bathroom. Danny’s ex-boyfriend was in there, washing his hands.

“Get out,” Stiles commanded from behind his hand. He looked up at him in surprise, but made no attempt to leave. “Seriously, GET THE FUCK OUT!”

The other boy raised his wet hands up in surrender then left, making sure to fling the water everywhere so that it sprayed Stiles. Stiles rushed to the sink, turning the water on and washing the goo from his face.

He rubbed and scrubbed at his nose until his face turned red. When he finally got himself clean, more of the ichor would come pouring down and he’d have to repeat the process. Every swipe of his hand made him increasingly worried, every stroke at his nose more frantic. It just wouldn’t stop. He could feel the growing sense of horror and panic humming beneath his skin. He needed it to stop!

This whole fucking time he’d been fine! He was fine! He didn’t even feel weird. He didn’t have a headache. He wasn’t queasy. Before all the rubbing, his nose didn’t even feel strange. So why the fuck was this happening? Why now?

He stood at the sink for a full 20 minutes. He heard the warning bell ending lunch, then the final bell to indicate he was late for class, but neither deterred him. He kept at it more and more every time he spotted so much as a drop. When the oozing finally— _finally_ —stopped, he turned around to leave and was surprised to see Griffin standing behind him with a devastated look on his face. He wondered idly how long he had been there.

“What do you want?” Stiles asked, in no mood to talk to him about anything.

Griffin couldn’t find anything to say. He wanted to ask if Stiles was okay, but that was a dumb question. Of course he wasn’t fine. He was dying. He didn’t know what to replace it with. Instead, he huffed sadly and kept staring.

“If you don’t have anything to say,” Stiles snapped, “can you get the fuck out of my way?” He gestured toward the door.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I’m _so sorry_. For everything! I-”

“Oh, _fuck you_!” Stiles cut him off, smiling darkly. “I don’t want to hear a single fucking thing you have to say!”

“Stiles I-”

“This is _your fault_!” Stiles screamed, voice scraping roughly from his throat and echoing off the tiles. “It’s because of _you_!” All the urgency and frantic energy he had been feeling shifted into rage and he was letting it out on Griffin. “If it wasn’t for you, I never would have been there at Derek’s house!” he accused. “Peter never would have gotten to me!” He took a step forward beginning to close the space between them. “And then you could have at least helped! You could have _rescued me_ , but you said _NO_!” He stuck his arms out to his sides in complete and utter disbelief. “You fucking said no! _How could you_?”

“I honestly believed that they could save you,” Griffin whispered, shaking his head slowly. The movement was almost subconscious. He looked so defeated and sad in that moment. How dare _he_ feel defeated? It only made Stiles angrier. He wanted to hit him. _God damn_ he wanted to hit him so bad. But he wouldn’t. He would never do that.

“I didn’t think you needed me,” Griffin continued. “And I _knew_ you didn’t want me. If I’d have thought- even for a second- I never-” he shook his head, unable to get the words out. He could be so eloquent when he wanted, but faced with another person dying, he was losing all of his composure. “I just- I’m sorry Stiles. I’m so fucking sorry!”

Deep down, Stiles knew that none of this was actually Griffin’s fault. Griffin didn’t make him run to Derek’s house that night. He certainly hadn’t needed to be there in order to finish his research as a distraction. Even by the time Griffin had been asked for help, it was already too late. Peter had bit him in the car on their way to the Hale House. There was literally nothing anyone could have done. More than that, it’s not like he could put the responsibility of Peter’s actions on Griffin.

Just then, Stiles was so fucking mad that he had to blame someone. He had to take out his anger somewhere and Griffin had just made himself an easy target.

There was no rhyme or reason to grief. It just was.

“I’m _dying_ Griffin!” Stiles screamed again. Oh. Fuck. Wow. He’d actually managed to say it out loud. The alpha honest to God _flinched_ at the words. “I’m dying now, and _once again_ your half assed apologies aren’t changing anything. So why don’t you just save it!”

Griffin scrunched his face up into a scowl and he bit his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. He looked like he was about to cry. Stiles span around and headed back to the sink. There was no fucking way he was about to see that. Griffin was the second strongest person he knew. He couldn’t see him cry. That would make things all too real.

After a moment of ignoring the werewolf, Stiles inhaled slowly through his nose and tried to change the subject.

“What’s wrong with your face?” he asked. He was talking about the long gashes that ran along Griffin’s left cheek and neck. Four slashes crossing to make a haphazard tic-tac toe board. He’d noticed earlier that day in class, but—considering how fervently he’d been ignoring the wolf—hadn’t expected the opportunity to ask.

Griffin took a series of deep breaths then cleared his throat before answering. “You aren’t the only one who thinks it’s my fault,” he replied cryptically.

Stiles was about to snap at him to elaborate until it clicked in his head. Griffin was an alpha. The only thing that could give him a wound like that without it immediately healing was either a witch or stronger alpha. He smiled quickly to himself at the imagery, hoping Griffin didn’t notice in the mirror.

“Well,” Stiles huffed, “you only have yourself to blame. Now move,” he added coldly, waving his arm in a shooing motion. Griffin stepped aside silently and Stiles tried his best to ignore the crashing wave of sorrow and regret that flooded him when he brushed Griffin’s arm on accident.

The day didn’t get any better after that. His nose didn’t start to leak any of the black fluid again, but the pack wouldn’t stop looking at him with those sad eyes. They hovered around him, handling him carefully like he was made of spun glass. It was pissing him off even more.

He snatched his bag away when Scott tried to carry it after school and headed straight to the jeep, ignoring everyone. He went to bed angry that night, glaring at the apologetic texts he’d been receiving throughout the evening. Everyone who was important had sent something to him. Except, of course, Malia who was still refusing to use her phone most days. Even Melissa had sent him something nice. Only his father and Derek’s name’s weren’t bolded. He wanted to throw his phone across the room.

(8 days)

The next day followed the same trend, but he was in his 3rd period when the ichor started up. He was in the middle of a test when he felt his nose running. He reached a sleeve up absently to brush it away before he got snot all over his face, but when he dropped his hand back to the desk, there was a small black smudge on his hoodie.

He rolled his eyes in irritation. Really? This again? Not that he particularly wanted to take this test anyways, but this shit was getting on his nerves.

He only had 3 questions left, so he scribbled in a few guesses on his scantron before grabbing it and his bag and heading to the teacher’s desk. He asked if he could go to the bathroom and took off down the hall when he was dismissed.

He checked to make sure the bathroom was empty before growling in frustration. His nose started to drip again, but much more than it had before. It was pouring freely now and he rushed to the sink with paper towels to clean himself up with.

Just like last time, the ichor kept coming and he was starting to get really aggravated by it. Seriously, why did he have to put up with this? This crap was disrupting his life. It was effecting his friends and now his schoolwork. He didn’t have the patience for this.

He pressed a handful of paper towels against his nose and forced the ichor out like he was blowing his nose. That made it even worse because then his nose started pouring like a literal faucet, and now the blowing was giving him a headache. Even fucking better.

He growled out loud again, but did it again. Maybe if he kept it up, he could just push it all out and be done with this sooner. He made a mess all over the sink and used every paper towel in the bathroom, but after 3 more harsh blows, it appeared his theory was correct. The ichor finally stopped. He cleaned the sink and his face as best he could, feeling only mildly comforted that he hadn’t gotten any more on his hoodie.

He left the bathroom, but instead of heading back to class, he went straight to the jeep. The sun was bright and shining in a clear sky, burning bright with positivity and optimism. It pissed Stiles off even more. He was fucking done with the day. He was going home.

He pulled out of the parking lot, but instead of turning toward the street that would take him home, he went the other way that would take him over into the reserve. He didn’t know where he was going, but he just felt so fucking annoyed that he was making split decisions without thinking about them. After a few more turns, he pulled over and parked.

He could feel the anger buzzing beneath his skin and making him antsy. He wanted to do something. He needed to move or hit something. Sitting down and driving wasn’t helping his mood any.

Making another split decision, he turned and took off at a full sprint into the forest. He didn’t pay any attention to where he was going and honestly didn’t fucking care. He kind of wished he would get lost so he could focus his energies on finding his way out of the woods instead of anything else.

Stiles was never the most athletic of people, so he tired quickly of running as hard as he could. He kept himself going though, slowing only by a little despite the burning in his lungs and the screams of his muscles for him to stop. He kept up that way until he was so exhausted he felt like he might pass out from the lack of air.

He reached a clearing in the trees and collapsed to the ground as soon as he passed the tree line. He lay there, catching his breath and listening as his heart slowed down. He could hear it thumping like a rabbit’s against his eardrums as he wheezed into the dirt and grass.

It took him a full 10 minutes and only minimal retching for him to catch his breath, but he didn’t feel any less angry. When he had recouped his energy, he stood up and took a look at the clearing. As he took it in, he realized it wasn’t just a clearing. It was a whole field. In fact, it was the very same field that he’d learned telekinesis in. He walked further in, looking at all the junk still spread out from his and Aniyah’s practicing.

He laughed darkly. Of course his subconscious mind would bring him there without him even realizing it.

Thinking back to his telekinesis had him thinking of magic. Magic. That was the real source of all of this. It was all because he’d released his magic. If he hadn’t, then he would have been turning into a werewolf like Scott. But no, instead he was dying.

Actually that was wrong. If he hadn’t released his magic, then he would have died under that tree on New Year’s. So he’d have been dead either way. That was just his fucking life.

He could feel his rage itching under his skin like a parasite trying to get out. It was barely contained within him and he just wanted to let it out. He _needed_ to let it out!

An idea suddenly dawned on him and he reached down to his bracelet, uttering the words that would allow him to take a piece off. He was just about to unlatch the piece he needed to release his telekinesis when he made another reckless split decision.

Stiles pulled the entire red and gold bracelet from his wrist and flung it to the ground. The surge of power that shot through him was so powerful it made him dizzy and he actually fell over. He starfished out on the ground, facing the sky and frowned at what he saw.

The first thing he noticed was a rusty refrigerator flying over his head in a large circle. A few yards above it, a pair of milk crates were making a larger circle and flying fast enough that he had to squint to even see what they were.  Above that, the entire sky was littered with all the trinkets and rocks and old scraps that he and Aniyah had used to practice their telekinesis. Everything was soaring through the air making various sized circles, centered around him. All set against the backdrop of a light grey, overcast sky. Wait, wasn’t it sunny earlier?

His magic was going haywire and he had little to no control over it. It felt liberating but simultaneously terrifying. He could feel it flailing about around him and it was almost relieving, but he needed control.

He tried to focus on the old television to bring it back down to him, but he accidentally put too much force into it. As soon as he locked his eyes—clear on his intent—the whole thing exploded with a high pitched keening noise and a burst of color. It didn’t just shatter or break, it disintegrated into nothingness, leaving a thin green cloud to dissipate in its place. There was no shrapnel. No debris. No fallout. It was completely gone.

Stiles found the destruction of it to be rather satisfying. He turned his focus to the refrigerator and condemned it to a similar fate. The resultant whine was much louder because of the size and proximity, and the smoke took on the shape of a chartreuse mushroom cloud.

He vaporized a few more pieces of the detritus flying through the air, but it was quickly losing its ability to sate the savage beast broiling inside him. He needed to _smash_ something—to rip it apart. He needed to see it _break_ and _feel_ it being destroyed.

He took a moment to try and center himself, pushing away all the anger to focus on the magic overflowing from within. He envisioned reaching out and slowly withdrawing it from the air around him, piece by piece. He didn’t want to reel it back in. He just wanted to redirect it for a moment.

The first thing to hit the ground was a giant clay pot. The way it clattered to the dirt noisily and shattered into a hundred pieces sent a wave of relief through the skin that itched to swing out and strike something. It was very cathartic for him.

He withdrew another tendril of magic and a large, filthy car engine careened from the sky. It impacted the ground with a thundering clang, fracturing to pieces and sending a splash of dark oil spreading around it.

The visual coupled with the dramatic sound of the metal pieces splitting apart was like a shock to the system, and he huffed out a short, broken scream. The remaining objects making rounds through the air increased in velocity, each individually spinning on its own axis in response to his reaction. Stiles barely noticed.

He sat up and turned to his right, attention taken by the engine. It was the same kind of laser like focus that disintegrated the refrigerator. There was no malcontent directed at it, just the curious sense of wonder that comes with a sudden revelation. He crawled towards it slowly, one limb at a time with his knees off the ground. He wasn’t even entirely aware that he was doing so. He was too caught in the metaphor sitting in front of him.

What was once a powerful, fine-tuned machine, was now reduced to pieces with no hope of ever being repaired. Sure it had its issues. It had been abandoned, which led it to being brought to this field in the first place. So there must have been something wrong with it. It must have been broken somehow. But it could have been fixed. Maybe a piece or two needed replacing, but it could have been whole again. Returned to its former glory, maybe even better.

None of that could happen now. Any chance for improvement was gone. All snatched away by one angry man who sent it all crashing down. It had its flaws but it was a good piece of equipment. It could have had a future! It could have done something! It could have been _better_! He could have _been somebody_! Maybe he was a little broken, and twisted, and fucked up inside, but he had a chance to be _whole_! Now he had _nothing_! _All of that was gone_! It was gone! Stiles would be _nothing_!

He dropped to his knees just outside the reach of the oil spatter and screamed again. It was deep and grating, ripping painfully out of his chest as he held the note until his head hurt. When he finally stopped, he was out of breath and dizzy, but it relieved him in a similar way to the clay pot splintering apart in the dead grass.

While it relieved him, it also unleashed a storm from inside, and he had to scream again. It was bubbling up inside of him, overflowing and he had to let it spill out. The fury was overtaking him and he couldn’t contain it anymore.

This time when he stopped, it ended on a screech, voice going hoarse already. As his voice stopped echoing through the clearing, a waterfall of rain suddenly started pouring down on him. He was soaked to the bone in seconds, but he could barely feel it making him cold.

He clamored to his feet, moving away from the oily mud that was forming. The bitterness and mania was still burning under the surface of his skin like the fire that nearly killed him that day. The rain did nothing to put out the proverbial flames.

Squinting, he turned his face up to the sky and raised his hands up, stretching his magic out to get a firm grip on the articles still careening through the air, then slammed his hands back down. He screamed again as everything fell at once. He pulled it all down and the uproarious commotion it caused was jarring. He had to slam his hands over his ears even as it was muffled by the rain.

It felt good to be causing so much damage. He needed to do it more. Continuing to use his arms as a guide, he conducted his magic to throw everything to the left. He had so much magic flying through the air unable to be completely controlled, that when he flung the debris across the field, a powerful gust of wind came with it. It howled against his ears, bending and swaying the trees, and nearly knocked him over when it buffeted against him.

He stumbled a few steps, but did not let that deter him. Hollering again, he swung his arms back and threw everything back in the opposite direction. The sounds of things smashing and breaking was like a lullaby to his ears. Destroying the stuff made him feel powerful. It made him feel strong like he never knew he was and erased all hesitation about being out of control. It was exactly what he needed. He swung the detritus back up into the air, building momentum before making it all crash land into the ground again.

XxxxxxxxxX

Scott spotted Aunt Dee’s leg tapping agitatedly. He didn’t know her as well as Stiles did, but he knew enough to know that if she was anxious, there was a problem. The sudden downpour of rain as they drove through the preserve was ominous as well. Things weren’t sounding so good just about then.

“You’re sure he’s out here?” Melissa asked from the 3rd row back seat.

She was supposed to be sleeping at the Stilinski’s house before her evening shift, but when Scott called in search of Stiles’ location, she immediately joined their hunt. The last time he went missing ended in disaster, there was no way she could have taken a nap knowing he was MIA again.

The entire pack had been out looking for him. When Danny mentioned that they should call Griffin and it turned out that Aunt Dee knew exactly where he was but couldn’t lead them there herself, they had all been overwhelmed with relief and piled into the Durango and Derek’s Toyota to follow them there.

The sudden change in weather and now how antsy Aunt Dee was seeming, was cause for concern.

“There is not a single doubt in my mind that he is exactly where I say he is,” Aunt Dee assured them. “The problem—it would appear—is that it won’t be so easy to get through to him.”

“You mean physically?” Lydia asked from the passenger seat. “Or emotionally?”

“I’m afraid, I mean both.” Aunt Dee’s frown was not comforting.

“I can’t see anything through the rain,” Melissa muttered to Isaac, who was sitting beside her. “Can you?”

Isaac squinted out the front window. “Barely. But Griffin’s eyes are better than the average werewolf. I think we’ll be fine.”

Melissa had only spent a brief amount of time in Griffin’s presence total. Considering the entirety of that time had been in the midst of him and Stiles fighting, she wasn’t sure if she trusted the young alpha or not. She glanced out the back window to where she could hardly see a set of headlights following their own SUV. She hoped Derek could see as well as Griffin supposedly could.

“I just don’t understand where it’s coming from,” she mused aloud. “The weather report this morning promised sunny, cloudless skies. Now it’s like we’re in the middle of a hurricane.”

“Hurricanes almost never happen on the west coast,” Lydia corrected idly, trying to distract herself with her phone. “The Pacific ocean’s too cold.”

“Stiles.” Aunt Dee interjected without prompting.

“No,” Lydia lowered her eyebrows in confusion, looking up from the screen. “I’m Lydia.”

“Stiles is causing the rain,” the witch clarified. “I imagine he took his bracelet off and the magic is reacting to his mood, causing the sudden change in weather. That’s why we’ll have trouble getting to him.”

“Stiles can control the weather?” Scott asked incredulously. He wasn’t sure, but that sounded like the kind of thing that took a great deal of magic. He wasn’t wrong.

“No.” Aunt Dee shook her head. “He has the strength to. He has the strength for so much more. He lacks _the ability_. He can’t control it. It’s too powerful to do so outright. He has to build up to it. Right now, it can only react to him.”

Griffin slammed on the breaks out of nowhere and everyone pitched forward. Lydia screeched in surprise for a bit, but cut it off short when she realized the seatbelt jerked her back from hitting the dashboard. She turned on Griffin, shouting at him.

“What the hell are you-” the rest of her sentence was cut off by the sound of a boulder slamming into the ground with surprising force mere feet away from the front of the car. An explosion of dirt sprinkled the hood, having been displaced from the crater the rock created.

“Holy shit!” Scott called. “Was that-”

“Stiles,” Aunt Dee answered him before he finished. Her eyes lit up in a glowing emerald green color as she used her magic to get her bearings on the world around her. “The start of the clearing is about 50 feet away, but it’s the size of a football field. He’s standing nearly in the middle.”

“How can you tell?” Melissa asked curiously. She had been assured the woman was blind.

“I can sense the magic. At the moment it’s spreading out through nearly the whole town. Everywhere the rain is falling is within the vicinity of his powers. I can see the outlines of things touched by it. I just can’t see the details.” She reached a hand out to stroke the door before grabbing the handle and opening it. “We need to stop him before he does something irreversible.”

She climbed out of the car just as the Toyota pulled up beside them. The 2 SUVs emptied quickly and they headed out to the clearing, the humans and banshee crowding behind the weres for protection against the wind and rain, while the witch led the way. The heavy rain had their clothes and hair heavy and sticking to them in moments. Danny spent all of a second lamenting his decision not to wear a heavy coat this morning. It would have weighed him down even more anyways, he rationalized.

Stiles had his back to them. The wolves could hear that every 15 seconds or so, he would scream and swing his arms around, sending pieces of debris flying through the air and crashing into each other. Halfway to him, Aunt Dee stopped and looked sharply over her left shoulder. “Duck!” she shouted over the roaring wind. Everyone hit the dirt obediently, just in time to avoid getting hit with the mangled remains of what was once a shopping cart. When the coast was clear they all stood up and continued forward, moving at double time.

“Aunt Dee,” Melissa called to the woman who, save for the white at her temples, didn’t look any older than she did. “If he can’t control it, how do we get him to stop all of this?”

“We have to calm him down,” she replied. “Then we have to get his bracelet back on.”

“Stiles!” Kira shouted, trying to catch his attention. Under normal circumstances, he would have heard her. With the downpour and the wind swallowing all sound, she couldn’t reach him. “Stiles!” she called even louder. Still nothing.

“He’s not going to hear you,” Derek warned. He continued toward him, passing Aunt Dee.

“Scott!” Lydia shouted, struck with an idea. “Call him!”

“What? He can’t hear us.”

“No. Howl! Or roar! Like you did to get his attention from the nogitsune!”

Scott nodded, understanding. Eyes glowing gold, he took a deep breath and released a roar, deep and loud. It vibrated through the field and definitely caught Stiles’ attention. He snapped his head toward them, exposing his eyes that were the same hue of green as Aunt Dee’s.

Instead of comforting him, their presence seemed to anger him more and he shouted again, slamming his fists to his sides in frustration. As his arms swung down, the black sky above them rumbled angrily. Once his hands were perpendicular to his sides, a huge bolt of lightning shot from the sky, directed right at the pack.

Thinking quickly, Kira lifted her hands above her head and drew the lighting toward herself, absorbing the electricity in a brilliant show of lights. At first, just her hands glowed white, but it stretched around her entire body until it was blinding just to look at her. The force of the lightning pushed her down onto her knees, but she took it all, sending off little sparks as she drew it into her body. The last of it filled her with a flash as it crackled in the air around them, and they were engulfed in the scent of ozone.

Seeing that he nearly killed his friends, Stiles’ anger abated slightly, replacing itself with worry and guilt. The rain started to let up and the clouds lightened to a more gray color than black. The wind didn’t slow down any. It kept tearing at their clothes and faces, but now it was moving in a more circular direction.

Thinking that Stiles was calming down, Lydia ran the rest of the way toward him, Malia close on her heels. Danny, Isaac, and Melissa followed her example, running closer as well. He shook his head, and waved his hand, trying to ward them away. They kept coming anyways until they were within earshot.

“Stiles!” Lydia shouted. “You have to stop!” She slowed as she approached. “You’re going to hurt somebody.”

“Then _go away_!” Stiles screamed at her.

“Stiles,” Melissa called, reaching forward to try and take his hand, but he was nonresponsive toward it. “I know you’re upset, but we need to talk about this. This-” she gestured around her. “It isn’t healthy. Or safe.”

“We’ve all been worried about you,” Danny explained. “We’ve been searching for you all day.”

“You found me.” He raised his arms at his sides as if to expose himself. “So you can go home now! I’m fine!”

“You’re not fine, Stiles.” Isaac disagreed. “This is not _fine_.”

“Just come back with us,” Malia pleaded, wanting to be out of there and for everything to go back to normal.

“No!” he argued. “I’m fine like this. Just leave me out here and go get somewhere dry!”

“Stiles!” Scott finally approached, trying to reason with his friend. “I know you’re hurting. Just come back with us.”

Griffin stayed a few feet behind Scott, and Derek further behind him. Aunt Dee remained about 10 yards away, scanning the ground for something.

“No!”

“Stiles,” Scott came closer, the only one brave enough to come within reaching distance. “There was a time not too long ago when I was standing on the edge and you cared too much to just leave me there. You have to know that I’m not going to leave you here either.”

“WHY?!” Stiles screamed loud enough that his voice broke a little, hoarse from all the shouting he’d done before. It was enough to make Scott flinch in surprise.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Why? Why does it matter?”

“Because we care about you!” Lydia snapped at him like he was an idiot. “We just want to take care of you!”

“It’s not going to change anything!” The clouds above them slowly began to darken again and the rain picked up. “You could wrap me up in a fucking blanket and kiss me goodnight, it still doesn’t matter!”

“Stiles-” Scott started but the witch cut him off.

“ _I’m dying_! Nothing anybody can do is going to change that. So nothing matters! None of this matters anymore! _I don’t fucking matter_!”

“Stiles,” Derek finally spoke up. “You will always matter.”

“In less than two weeks’ time I’m going to be gone! I’ll be nothing more than a memory and crater in you guys’ lives. An empty space. Just like the rest of them. Like Allison. And Boyd and Erica. The whole fucking Hale family! Heather! My _Mom_! I’m going to be nothing-”

“Don’t say that!” Danny pleaded. “Don’t think that about yourself!”

“You don’t get it! I’m _dying_! To _death_! It’s fucking stupid! And I hate it! And I’m being killed for the dumbest reason possible, but I still am. I’m allowed to feel however the hell I want about it. If that means I feel like being alone in a field and destroying everything in my path, then so fucking be it. Now _leave me alone_!”

“I’m not leaving,” Scott shook his head in defiance. He took a few steps forward, reaching out to embrace his friend, but Stiles stepped back.

“Fuck off, Scott!” he warned. The sky above them was completely black and the rain was coming down by the buckets again. Scott edged closer and Stiles raised his arms out of his reach defensively. “Get the fuck away from me!”

“Please! Just-” Scott took one final step, right into Stiles’ space and that’s when he snapped. Stiles swung his fist out wide and punched Scott in the mouth. He hit him so hard that he toppled over into the mud. Simultaneously, a strike of lightning cracked and hit the ground about 100 feet away from them, the noise echoing through the field at the exact moment of impact.

Everyone was shocked into silence except Melissa. She rushed forward to help her son stand. He had a thick trail of blood pouring from his mouth, but he didn’t look angry. Rather he looked besotted with sadness. Not sad that his brother hit him, but sad that he’d failed to get through to him.

“You have to stop this,” Melissa begged him weakly. She looked up at him with tearstained brown eyes, but it wasn’t enough.

“Just go away!” he commanded. When no one moved, he reached his hands up as a threat. If they didn’t leave, he would use his magic to hurt them all.

Griffin shook his head. “You wouldn’t do it,” he iterated with absolute certainty. “You spend too much time protecting them to hurt them. They’re your family,” he explained. “You would never hurt your family.”

Stiles was overcome with the sudden desire to choke the life out of Griffin. “They’re not my family!” He spat between his teeth like the words were acid. “They’re my _PACK_!”

At the word pack, Stiles swung his arm out, fingers splayed. He only directed it at Griffin, so the alpha shot into the air, sailing up and back over 200 feet. So much power was put into it that the ground beneath him was ripped up as well, creating a deep trench that followed behind him. He did a backflip in the sky and reoriented himself so that when he finally did land, he hit the ground on his feet, ending up in a crouch as he steadied himself with a hand.

Stiles could not be consoled. He was burning with a rage and no one seemed to be able to extinguish it. Well, almost no one. Derek had an idea.

He approached the angry teen, hands raised in surrender. “Back off Derek!” Stiles commanded, but Derek wouldn’t be deterred either. He didn’t shake his head or say no, he simply kept walking toward him. “I said _stay the hell away from me_!” He came closer until he was standing in his space, but Stiles didn’t step back like he did with Scott. “Get the fuck away from me!” he shouted into the alpha’s face. Derek ignored him, reaching a hand up to grip Stiles’ arm, just above the elbow. “Leave me _alone_!” Stiles tried to jerk his arm away but didn’t succeed.

Just like with Scott, he brought his arm back and punched him in the mouth. Derek, being much heavier and having expected it, barely even swayed at the blow. “Fuck off!” Stiles screeched, voice cracking again. Derek still didn’t move or let him go, so he punched him again. Again Derek wouldn’t move. So Stiles kept hitting him, grunting loudly with each one.

He slammed his fist into his face over and over, splitting the skin and breaking bones—Derek’s and his own. Derek’s grip loosened enough on his arm for him to tug it away, but he still didn’t move from in front of him, reaching out to him again as the wounds started the process of healing over.

Stiles batted his hand away and stomped his foot down on Derek’s knee. It wasn’t enough to break it, but it was jarring enough to make him lose his balance. Stiles took advantage of that and knocked him over, pushing him into the ground with a wet squelch against the mud.

He stepped forward and kicked him in the stomach hard enough that he rolled completely over. He kicked him in the ribs, making him grunt and arch his back in pain, but he still didn’t stop. He kept kicking him, again and again. In the stomach. In the ribs. The thigh. The back. Over and over.

Unable to watch anymore, Danny ran forward, grabbing Stiles and pulling him away from the injured werewolf. “Stop it! Now!” Danny demanded. “You’re hurting him.” Stiles swung a punch at Danny too, but he dodged it. When he did, Stiles threw him back just like he did to Griffin, but with nowhere near as much force. The human only lifted a few inches off the ground and landed right into Isaac and Scott. They caught him and held him back. Derek was strong enough to overpower Stiles. If he wanted to stop him, he would have. Instead, he just accepted the beating as if it were his duty.

“Why are you doing this, huh?” Danny pried from where he was caught in his teammates’ arms. “How does this help you? Is it making you feel any better?”

“Yes!” Stiles snarled in agreement. “It’s making me feel so much better!” He advanced on Derek again, who had gotten upright during the scuffle with Danny and was now standing on his knees. He backhanded him with his left hand, then grabbed him by the hair and forced him back down again. “In fact,” Stiles continued. “This is so fun, I almost forgot that I was dying. Did you hear that Derek? I’m dying!” He punctuated the sentence with another kick.

“I’m dying, so nothing matters! Does this hurt?” he kicked him again. “It doesn’t fucking matter! Nothing matters. In nine more days, I’m going to be gone from this world.” Another kick. “My entire life, over. Just like that!” Another. “And I don’t even get to live it!” Another. “I don’t get to have a future!” Again. “I don’t get to go to college.” Another. “I’m never going to get married. I won’t have kids.” Again. “I’ll never attend my high school’s ten year reunion. I’ll never get the chance to prove to everyone that I’m more than Scott’s goofy loser friend.” He kicked him one last time then stopped, heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“I won’t get to travel the world, or leave this godforsaken hell hole of a town. I’ll never figure out if mermaids are real. I’ll never be a starving college student, living off top ramen and hot dogs. I’ll never have to struggle to pay my bills.”

The more Stiles spoke, the lighter the sky got and the more the rain let up. Each word became less and less angry, by just a fraction of a margin, until they sounded more frantic and sad.

“I’ll never find out who the twelfth Doctor is. I’ll never see Destiel become canon. I won’t get to see Lydia receive her first Field’s Medal. I can’t put flowers on Allison’s grave on the first anniversary of her death. I won’t be there to watch Scott open his very own animal clinic. I can’t see Melissa retire and finally take a break. God damn it would be so satisfying to watch her take a break.”

Stiles hadn’t touched Derek in a while, so he sat up slowly, returning to his position on his knees. Still frustrated, Stiles pulled his arm back to punch him again, but it was less than halfhearted and barely even jolted his shoulder when it landed.

“I’ll never try out whatever software Danny invents that launches his career and turns him into a billionaire. I’ll never see what Kira looks like in her full kitsune form. Or cheer the first time she kicks her mom’s ass in a fight. I’ll never see Isaac become a dad. I know he’s going to be the best fucking Dad in the world, if for no reason other than that it would have pissed his own off. I won’t be there on the day when somebody looks up and realizes that Malia can function like a regular human in society and they never even noticed when it happened.”

Stiles moved his hand as if to punch Derek again, but merely rested his fist against the muddy stubble on his cheek. Derek reached up to grab it and squeezed it tight. Stiles looked down at him and hazel green eyes met whisky brown. His magic was still flowing freely around him, but he was no longer focusing it on any specific task so it slipped out of the grip of his control. Stiles gazed into Derek’s dirty, blood covered face, watching the wounds slowly knit themselves together and the bruises fade away.

“I’ll never see Cora again,” he told him, voice breaking. That was when the tears started to well up in his eyes. He was the last one. Everyone else had already been crying halfway through his speech. “And you,” Stiles relaxed his fist and spread his fingers over the wolf’s cheeks. “I’ll never get to see you be the alpha I know you want to be. The one that’ll make your mother proud. I’ll never hear you admit that you kinda like it when I call you Sourwolf. And I’ll never see your _kids_. I’ll never see the family you create for yourself. I’ll never see you really being happy.”

Derek stood up, still cradling Stiles’ palm against his cheek.

“I’ll never see Lusia as a snotty teenager, or find out if she ever remembers the stuff I’ve shown her. I’ll never see Parrish take over my Dad’s job as Sheriff.” The tears spilled over and he huffed a wet sob. “Then there’s my Dad-” he cut himself off, unable to think about it anymore. He sobbed again and it was a heartwrenching sound.

Derek pulled him closer to wrap him up in his arms, but Stiles folded his arms out in a half assed attempt to shrug out of it. “No,” he complained, shaking his head through the tears, but Derek wouldn’t let him go. “No, no. Let me go,” Stiles begged quietly, trying feebly to push him away.  His voice was weak and shaking, face contorted as powerful sobs struggled their way out of him, fighting to escape his lungs after nearly a week of shoving them down and pretending they didn’t exist. “Stop,” he whimpered, bending his legs and scrabbling his feet as if he were trying to slide from the bottom of Derek’s embrace. “Please?”

Derek held onto him firmly, and it was a good thing he did. Finally, Stiles couldn’t fight anymore and his body went limp as he fully broke down and wept openly. Derek held him up, clutching the teen to his chest. His tears were loud and long, heaving through a cracked and strained voice. They sounded like sorrow and regret howling around the field and being carried away by the wind.

The weight of his grief was crushing him and he clung to Derek’s leather jacket, burying his face into his chest for support. They stayed like that for a while, with Stiles mourning against the alpha until his voice was no more than a croak in the air and he had no more tears left to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this made y'all cry. It made me cry when writing it, and I cry every time I read through it again.


	4. 2.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Aniyah absolutely refuse to give up on Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's not dead?
> 
> Guess who's also trash?
> 
> If you said me... Somewhere is a cookie with your name on it.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my commenter: Blue.

Chapter 2.2: (10 days)

After days of researching and coming up nothing, Aniyah discovers that its impossible to get the vampire venom to meet the 5 day mark. Instead she starts testing a few theories to see if she can get both the venom and the spark to spread at the exact same rate. She figures it out, but it’s a very precarious balance and involves wolfsbane, vervain, the blood of the infected witch and direct moonlight. It doesn’t have to be full, but full works best, just the moon in general is fine because vampires aren’t ruled by the moon the way wolves are.

Aniyah had been ditching school to hole herself up in Derek’s loft and power through the books they’d gotten from Aunt Dee. She made sure to go to work in the evenings so her dad wouldn’t get suspicious, but she spent all the rest of her time scouring the books for anything and taking meticulous notes on everything she could find that seemed the slightest bit useful and cross referencing it all.

So far, she had been at it for 3 days and all they had come up with was about 50 pages of handwritten notes, with another dozen or so full of theoretical equations and absolutely nothing truly encouraging.

Derek had been doing his own research with the book he’d gotten from Aunt Dee and hadn’t appeared to have been doing much better.

It was barely past the midnight mark of the 4th day that Aniyah finally had her breakthrough.

“I figured it out!” she screamed.

Derek dropped his book and rushed over to the table to investigate. “How?” he asked with no preamble.

“Well, first I had to find out why another bite didn’t just fix it in the first place.” Aniyah explained in a rush, shuffling a handful of loose leaf papers to the side. “It’s because of the different delivery systems. A vampire bite is designed for the venom to complete the change after a week if the vampire hasn’t drunk any human blood before then. Whereas a werewolf bite has its full effects almost immediately, but doesn’t reach a point of irreversibility until the peak of the next full moon, which could be in another thirty days, or could be in an hour.” She picked through a few pages of a weathered purple notebook in search of something, dropping it disappointedly when she didn’t find what she was looking for.

“Okay,” Derek questioned. “But what does that-” Aniyah waved a hand at him to cut him off.

“It means that the reason the opposite only kills the witch faster is because it’s almost impossible to get them to reach their full effects at the same time. So the addition of the second bite is just like giving them more poison of a different variety.”

Derek didn’t find that particularly helpful. “But then, what do we do about it?”

“We have to find a way to make them reach their full potency at the same time. If we can do that, then there really isn’t any other reason why the opposite bite won’t be a cure.”

She reached to pull the second book out of a stack of three, knocking the whole thing over. "This one!" She hissed to herself, triumphantly. She opened it right up to a page she had dog eared for later. It was later. She shoved the book at Derek, pointing at a complicated formula that spanned the bottom half of the first page and the first few lines of the next. "This is the formula for the vampire venom. I just need to tweak it a bit to get it to balance with the werewolf bite, then I think I've got it."

"Really?" Derek was trying to be cautiously optimistic, but the fact that he was nearly shouting betrayed his true excitement. "Just like that? It's that easy?"

"Are you kidding me?" Aniyah scoffed. "This is going to be hard as hell. Then once I've figured it out, I've got to figure out how to get the actual venom to mimic the equation I put together. That's going to be even harder."  
"What can I do to help?" Derek offered, voice more calm.

"How good are you at chemistry?" Derek winced at the witch, and she chuckled as she could already feel his confusion slipping into her. She hadn't even asked him to do anything yet. "Well, you can start by asking Aunt Dee for some basic materials for potion making. You can also see if she has any vampire venom. At least that way I can focus more on the formula and experimenting with the venom without having to divide my attention."

"I'll do that a little later in the morning. That way I don't have to bother waking her up in the middle of the night."

Aniyah nodded in agreement, remembering the time herself. She also recognized that the timing made it a lot less likely that Griffin would answer the door. She could feel the tiniest spike of pure bitter hatred with the lightest dusting of jealousy coming from the alpha and knew she was on the right track.

XxxxxxxxxX

Derek was grateful that Aunt Dee was alone when he came to see her at around 10. It would have made things more difficult if he had to tiptoe around Lauren in order to get the things Aniyah needed.

Aunt Dee was reluctant to do so, but handed over all the supplies he asked for without much fuss. On a whim, he even decided to ask for some wolfsbane and vervain. The older witch was curious, but found him a special jar to carry it in, without much question.

"You may as well take the rest of the venom," she offered as she slid a box half full of vials in his direction. "I'll have another supply coming in a few weeks from now, and I won't need it before then. So it's no problem."

"Thank you," Derek accepted it all with gratitude. "You have no idea what your help means to us."

Aunt Dee sighed heavily before slouching onto the table in her basement. "Unfortunately, it means nothing," she warned him again. "You two are fighting a losing battle. I just wish you could accept it. It will hurt so much more if you keep fighting it this way."

"I will not give up on him!" Derek nearly shouted. He took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. "Stiles is eve-" he huffed and cut himself off, starting over much more calmly. "He's way too important to just give up on. I can't. I won't!"

Aunt Dee looked on at him with glowing green eyes and a pitying expression. She could see the honesty around him and it was heartbreaking to watch.

"Thank you," Derek said again. He turned around and headed back up the stairs and straight to his car, loading his armful of supplies into the passenger seat.

Distantly, he could hear the aggressive whine of a 4 wheel drive with a hemi and he rolled his eyes, bitterness bubbling up beneath his skin already.

Griffin was down the street.

Derek was just settling the jar of wolfsbane in the cupholder, when the black Durango pulled into the driveway, going much faster than was necessary. He took a moment to marvel at the sensation of the spelled glass tingling against his hand before slamming the door in just enough time for Griffin to cut the engine and kick his own door open.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" He asked, tone just barely below what could be considered hostile.

"What the hell is it to you?" Griffin snarled, eyes glowing red. He’d already been pissed before he even got out of the car. Clearly, he didn't come back home for a social call. "Why are you even here?"

"I just came to see your Aunt," Derek explained calmly, if not a bit patronizingly. "Interesting that I should find you here again, as opposed to somewhere else where you might be better needed." That was more than just a bit patronizing.

Griffin growled audibly. "Maybe if you were wolf enough on your own to handle things yourself, then I wouldn't be needed in the first place." 

Derek's eyes lit up red in response to that comment. "You sure that's what the problem is?" He asked tauntingly. "You sure it's not that ego of yours that's the issue? Since it clearly seems to be the most important thing to you."

Griffin rounded on the other alpha, stepping threateningly into his space. "You got something to say, Hale?" he practically spat down at him.

"Yeah. You're a coward, and a petty child. You're so worried about being wolf enough that you basically discarded everything that you weren't man enough to handle."

Griffin didn't bother with a comeback to that. He was already riled up enough and a fight with Derek was the last thing he needed. Immediately, he swung an arm at Derek, aiming to get him in the face, but Derek was a lot faster than he had expected. He dodged it easily and swiped back at the teenager with the same movement.

Derek didn't miss.

This pissed Griffin off even more, so he launched himself across the yard at him, snarling and growling. They scuffled in the grass for a moment, filling the street with the sounds of rabid dogs fighting before Derek clawed the kid a second time on the face, then got him again in the ribs before kicking him off and onto the pavement of the driveway.

In a single fluid movement, Griffin kicked himself up off the ground, but Derek was behind him already. He tugged an arm painfully behind his back. "I don't have time to play with you, kid," he explained before spinning the teen around and launching him at his front door. Griffin hit it painfully, but Derek had been nice enough not to use enough force to damage Aunt Dee's porch. He stormed back over to his car, shooting Griffin one last piercing glare before climbing in and speeding off.

By the time he returned to the loft, Aniyah was full of an excited energy that could only mean she'd had another breakthrough.

"What's got you so happy?" she surprised him by asking first.

"Me?” he cocked an eyebrow at her. “Nothing really. What about you? You have good news?"

The witch began practically bouncing. "Yes! I think I've got it. If I'm right, then its going to be a lot simpler than I thought. If I'm wrong though, then we may be in trouble. But there's only one way to find out if I am..." She gesture eagerly to the load of materials in his arms and Derek happily handed it over.

"Let's hope you got it right, then."

Aniyah used a bit of her telekinesis to keep from dropping the supplies. "It'll probably take me a while of playing potions master before I figure it out or not."

“Just do it on the roof.”

“Because of the smell?” She glanced warily at the spelled jar of wolfsbane.

“Yeah, that and because I don’t want anyone coming in and thinking I’m running a meth lab.”

Aniyah tried and failed to suppress a smirk. “You would make a great Jesse Pinkman.”

“Why would I be Pinkman?” he asked, almost indignant sounding.

“Cause I’m the one making the meth. That makes me Walter.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Whatever… Bitch…”

Aniyah guffawed noisily as she turned to carry the box of ingredients up the spiral staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can promise you that I will not give up on this story! The series? Still a possibility.
> 
> But, I can't promise to be regular about my updates. In fact, I can't even promise you'll get the next one any time soon. But if you're still interested in the story, please oh please be patient with me. This will definitely have a conclusion. (In fact the conclusion is already written, its the rest of the stuff that I'm having trouble with...)
> 
> Please please please bear with me here ,y'all!
> 
> Also shameless Breaking Bad reference at the end.


End file.
